


The Little Things

by lillynire3



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Beaches, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 09:19:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3523967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillynire3/pseuds/lillynire3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Froth swirled around her ankles for a few moments before retreating. It returned moments later, chaotic and amazing, possessing all the simple beauty of nature. It reminded her of how life was. It was crazy and unpredictable, but there was always a moment of calm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Little Things

The sand was warm between her toes and scratchy on the soles of her feet. Enjolras sighed contentedly and tilted her head back, soaking up the rays of the sun. It was a warm day, but there was a slight breeze taking the edge off the heat. She lowered my gaze back to the ocean. There were people everywhere; a man with a young child in a boat, a pair of girls running through the spray, and a game of cricket on the shore. A little ways off, a lady in a dark green bathing suit was staring at the sky. She was a patch of calm in an ever moving sea of children, adults and actual ocean. Enjolras wondered what she was thinking about. Was she dreaming of things to come? Was she just trying to remember what was on her shopping list? Enjolras found herself favouring the former. There was something about the lady, with her dark hair blowing across her shoulders and big dark sunglasses concealing her eyes. Something that spoke of wishing herself away from the world as it was.

Enjolras shook her head. It didn't matter. She rose from her towel and walked the few metres to the water's edge. Froth swirled around her ankles for a few moments before retreating. It returned moments later, chaotic and amazing, possessing all the simple beauty of nature. It reminded her of how life was. It was crazy and unpredictable, but there was always a moment of calm.

On her towel, her phone buzzed. Enjolras froze. She knew instantly what it would be; some disaster or another demanding her attention and _'no, it can't wait'_ and _'yes, it has to be the head editor'_. She'd let herself relax and now things were going wrong. She trudged back to her towel, dragging her through the yellow sand. She plopped down and grabbed her phone. The little message notification from Courfeyrac blinked on the screen. It told her that Bossuet had blown up their photocopier. Enjolras exhaled and replied that it needed to be fixed by tomorrow or replaced if it was irreparable. Her phone buzzed in her hands not twenty seconds later. This time the message was from Combeferre.

**Combeferre:** _I'll handle it. Don't spoil your day off._

_'Don't spoil your day off'_. It was easier said than done. In her head, calculations were already buzzing, trying to decide if the meagre budget for their newsletter could take the cost of a new photocopier. She hoped Bossuet hadn't fucked it up too much. The more she thought about the more anxious she became. She needed something to soothe her nerves and stop the shaking of her hands. Without thinking, Enjolras reached into her bag and pulled out a cigarette and her lighter. By no means a healthy habit, but she only really smoked when she was stressed or upset or needed to focus or - come to think of it, it was quite a lot. Oops.

A shadow fell across her.

"You know, those aren't only bad for _you_ , but everyone around you, too." It was the woman in the green bathing suit from earlier. Enjolras startled, suddenly remembering she was at a beach with _children_ , for god's sake! Quickly, she stubbed out the cigarette and tucked the butt into her rubbish bag.

"Sorry. Stress reliever, forgot where I am." She grimaced, the apology sounding sharp even to her ears.

"You need a better stress reliever, honey," the lady grinned. "Hop up, come on."

Mystified, Enjolras stood up and let her pull her towards the water. The woman scooped up a handful of shells and handed them to Enjolras.

"Throw them," she said.

"What them?" Enjolras asked, convinced she had heard wrong.

"Throw them! You know, that thing where you move your arm and it—"

"Alright, alright I get the concept!" Enjolras cut in sarcastically. She chucked the shell a few feet in front of her. The lady groaned in a most unladylike fashion. Enjolras liked her.

"Not like that." She picked a shell from Enjolras palm, her fingers brushing her own for mere seconds, and got ready to throw it. "Like _this_!"

She was very glad the beach was starting to clear with the sun going down, because the lady's shell soared out, falling into the water near where the waves were breaking.

"What's your name?" Enjolras asked.

"Grantaire," she said. "And yours?"

"Enjolras."

"Well, _Enjolras_ , it's your turn," Grantaire said, carefully enunciating the syllables of Enjolras's name and nodding to the shells in her palm. She threw another one, this time sending it far out into the foam, even further than Grantaire's. The woman in question whistled.

"That's more like it. Again."

Strangely, Enjolras didn't think twice about listening to her. She threw another shell, then another and two more. She held her handful of little shells out to Grantaire, an unspoken invitation to join in. She laughed a little, and grabbed a few, throwing them in quick succession. Somehow, they ended up kicking water at each other and yelling at the sky. The sun was well and truly setting by now and they were alone but for a lady jogging some way off. Enjolras could pinpoint the moment she spotted the two of them. They must have looked like lunatics, drenched and out of breath and still throwing shells. Not so subtley, she turned around and jogged back the way she came. Enjolras started cackling, falling onto the damp sand and holding her sides.

Grantaire flopped down beside her, laughing her face off as well. When the two of them finally calmed down, they were leaning against each other's shoulders, damp hair hanging around faces. The sky was almost dark enough to show the stars and the moon was floating up from the horizon. Grantaire turned to her slightly, looking at Enjolras through the tangle of dark and light curls.

"It's the little things, Enjolras. Appreciate the little things."

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading! This is my first fic in the fandom, so it's probably a bit OOC. It was adapted from a piece I wrote for school and made gayer. Let me know if you find any mistakes, or have any suggestions :)


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